The unlucky manage of this fatal brawl: La. Cap. Tybalt, my cousin!-O my brother's child! Unhappy sight! ah me, the blood is spill'd Prin. Benvolio, who began this bloody fray? slay; Romeo that spoke him fair, bade him bethink Could not take truce with the unruly spleen Retorts it: Romeo he cries aloud, Hold, friends! friends, part! and, swifter than his tongue, His agile arm beats down their fatal points, And 'twixt them rushes; underneath whose arm An envious thrust from Tybalt hit the life Of stout Mercutio, and then Tybalt fled: Could draw to part them, was stout Tybalt slain; La. Cap. He is a kinsman to the Montague, Prin. Romeo slew him, he slew Mercutio; His fault concludes but, what the law should end, Prin. And, for that offence, Immediately we do exile him hence: I have an interest in your hates' proceeding, My blood for your rude brawls doth lie a bleeding; But I'll amerce you with so strong a fine, That you shall all repent the loss of mine: Bear hence this body, and attend our will: SCENE II. A Room in Capulet's House. Enter JULIET. [Exeunt. Jul. Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds, By their own beauties: or, if love be blind, Hood my unmann'd blood bating in my cheeks, bold, Think true love acted, simple modesty. Come, night!-Come, Romeo! come, thou day in night! For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night Whiter than new snow on a raven's back. Come, gentle night; come, loving, black-brow'd night, Give me my Romeo: and, when he shall die, And he will make the face of heaven so fine, To an impatient child, that hath new robes, Enter Nurse, with cords. And she brings news; and every tongue, that speaks But Romeo's name, speaks heavenly eloquence.Now, nurse, what news? What hast thou there? the cords, That Romeo bade thee fetch? Nurse. Ay, ay, the cords. Jul. Ah me! what news! why dost thou wring thy hands? Nurse. Ah well-a-day! he's dead, he's dead, he's dead! We are undone, lady, we are undone ! Alack the day!-he's gone, he's kill'd, he's dead! Jul. Can heaven be so envious? Nurse. Romeo can, Though heaven cannot:-O Romeo! Romeo!- Jul. What devil art thou, that dost torment me thus? This torture should be roar'd in dismal hell. Or those eyes shut, that make thee answer, I. Brief sounds determine of my weal, or woe. Nurse. I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes,God save the mark!-here on his manly breast: A piteous corse, a bloody piteous corse; Pale, pale as ashes, all bedawb'd in blood, All in gore blood;-I swooned at the sight. Jul. O break; my heart!-poor bankrupt, break at once ! To prison, eyes! ne'er look on liberty! Vile earth, to earth resign; end motion here; That ever I should live to see thee dead! Jul. What storm is this, that blows so contrary? |